


Let It All Burn

by CLeighWrites, WinchesterWytch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Car Accidents, Dead John Winchester, Demon Deals, Demons Are Assholes, POV Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Sam Winchester is Not Okay, Sam Winchester is So Done, Season 2 Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:48:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23280466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CLeighWrites/pseuds/CLeighWrites, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchesterWytch/pseuds/WinchesterWytch
Summary: Sam deals with the aftermath of coming face-to-face with the demon that killed his mother and failing to take it out.
Kudos: 5





	Let It All Burn

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for @princessmisery666 and her Sam Winchester Birthday Challenge. My collab partner, and aesthetic designer for this, was @deanwinchesterswitch, who also beta’d this little thing. Our prompt was the song "Hurricane" by Thirty Seconds to Mars.
> 
>   
> 

_They were arguing, again. There was a loud crash, the sound of metal on metal screeching, grinding, trying its damndest to obliterate them. His brother unconscious in the back seat, his father out cold beside him, all of them shifting beyond their control, inertia having its way with them. Shattered glass flies around them in a storm of shreds and shards, slicing through skin as the two collide. Then the world comes to a halt. Blood pounding in his ears, everything around him is silent, not even the sound of breathing. He screams his brother’s name._

Sam woke with a start; sweat beading his brow, breaths coming in short, forced bursts, fists clenched in his sheets. It had been seven days; seven days since the demon they had spent his entire life hunting had almost taken them all out. Seven days since he had thought he’d lost his brother forever, just as he was getting him back, five days since their dad had made his decision. He had chosen to trade his life for Dean’s. 

Once his breathing evened out and he was able to loosen his grip on his sheets, he sat up and rested his elbows on his knees. Head hanging low, he took in purposeful breaths, in vain, trying to slow his pounding heart. His mind raced every time he thought about it. His dad splayed out on the floor, the colt, gone, Dean miraculously recovered. There was no way in all of Hell that it hadn’t been the demon. Sam should have killed it when he had the chance; either way, his dad would still be gone.

The bitterness he felt about it was only slightly dimmed by the flood of relief that came from still having his brother. He couldn’t help but ask what would have happened had their roles been reversed. Would John have made the same sacrifice for him that he had made for Dean? Would he and Dean have argued before he died? Would he have fought to prove himself right? Would he have needed to? Dean was his perfect son, always did what he was told, never asked why. 

Sam was constantly buried by the onslaught of what-ifs and should-have-dones. All he wanted to do was hunt and kill the thing that made him and his brother orphans. Dean was drowning in his own right, throwing himself into fixing up the ruined Impala, scrambling to preserve the one constant they had in their lives. He was hardly eating, not talking to either Bobby or Sam. Every time Sam tried to bring up their dad, or yellow-eyes, Dean would shut him out. It was maddening, and every time Sam got more and more enraged by his brother’s perceived complacency. 

With nothing else to do and nowhere else to turn, Sam took to praying. If there were demons, there had to be angels, and if there were angels…? Sam had to believe that there was a higher power; there had to be some reason that their family seemed to be in the middle of… everything. He felt foolish and childish, but he’d pray daily. Screaming to the heavens for answers, for guidance, for peace, for direction. After a point, it became cathartic. He knew it was pointless, that nothing was going to come from it, but it was an emotional outlet that he was desperate for. 

It had been seven days; a week. It was time for them to get back to work. If that demon wanted them dead, they would go down fighting. Sam was tired of living a lie; if the world were to end in flames, he would be the one to strike the match. He would be the one to make things right; save the ones he could, and avenge the ones he couldn’t. Come Hell or high water.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't be shy, let me know what you think!


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